


Thermal

by Irelando



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, bodhi rook appreciation week, let bodhi fly an x-wing 2k17, mild pining, oops i accidentally fluffed everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 10:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10695555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irelando/pseuds/Irelando
Summary: Thermal (n.)an upward current of warm air, used by gliders, balloons, and birds to gain height.(aka: Bodhi's always dreamed of flying an X-wing. Luke is happy to help. They're both a little oblivious. for Bodhi week day 5)





	Thermal

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to try my hand at roguejedi for a while, because let's face it, it's fucking adorable. Not Kindling 'verse... but I reserve the right to change my mind about that.

“So I was thinking,” Luke says without preamble, dropping into the seat across the table from Bodhi. “Why don’t you use my ship tomorrow?”

Bodhi freezes mid-bite. His first instinct is to think it’s a joke - X-wing pilots have a bit of a reputation for being territorial about their ships, and while Luke’s been really nice ( _really_ nice, disarmingly nice) about teaching Bodhi, there’s no way he’d actually be willing to put his ship at risk by letting it be the first one Bodhi’s ever actually flown.

Right?

Whether Luke reads Bodhi’s uncertainty on his face or feels it through the Force, Bodhi’s not sure, but either way he says, “No, I’m serious. Artoo can help you more than one of the backup droids can. I already talked to Wedge and he’s willing to let me borrow his so I can still go up with you.”

Bodhi slowly starts chewing again, taking his time so he has a minute to think it through. Luke looks so _earnest,_ but the thought of being responsible for Luke Skywalker’s ship and his droid makes Bodhi’s stomach twist itself into an anxious knot.

The worst part is that, even knowing that, he absolutely wants to say yes. Especially with the way Luke’s looking at him, all big blue eyes and guileless enthusiasm (and if Bodhi’s heart skips a little at the way the light plays off his hair, he resolutely ignores it, because Luke Skywalker is _way_ out of his league). He wants to be worthy of the kindness he’s being offered, the obvious trust Luke has in him to even give him this choice, but he’s really pretty sure that he’s not.

He finishes the bite, and still isn’t sure what to say. “Um.”

Luke looks hurt for an instant, and Bodhi hastens to add, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it - I do, believe me, I really do - but I’m…” He searches for the words. “What if I crash? I’d never forgive myself if I wrecked your ship.”

“If you crashed, I think I’d be more worried about _you_ than my ship,” Luke shoots back. “Besides, you won’t crash.”

“You don’t know that,” Bodhi says.

“How many hours have you logged in the sims?”

Bodhi thinks for a moment. “Um.”

“I’ll tell you,” Luke continues as if he hadn’t spoken, “Five hundred. We’ve only been here for a month and a half, and you’ve already logged _five hundred_ hours.”

“How do you know that?” Bodhi asks.

“I looked before I came in,” Luke says, looking very pleased with himself, “Because I had a feeling you’d need some convincing.” He sobers. “Most pilots don’t log nearly that many before going up the first time.”

 _That’s because most pilots are better than I am_ , Bodhi thinks, but doesn’t say. That’s the crux of it. He’s dreamed of being a fighter pilot for so long, but he’s all too aware that he’s nowhere near perfect. And one little mistake in a high-speed, high-stakes battle can mean the end of not only one pilot, but defeat for the entire fleet. He’s terrified that he can’t handle that kind of pressure.

“Bodhi,” Luke says. Something warm touches his hand, and Bodhi drags himself back out of his thoughts to find Luke’s hand resting gently on one of his. “It’s up to you. If you don’t feel ready, that’s okay. But I think you’re too hard on yourself. And if something does go wrong, I’ll be there to help.”

It takes a moment for Bodhi to think past the tingles racing up his arm. He looks up to meet Luke’s eyes. Who knew blue could be so warm? He bites his lip for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

It’s almost worth it right then and there, just to see Luke beam at him.

—

He rounds the corner into the landing bay the next morning, his heart pounding against his ribs, to find the rest of Rogue One clustered around Luke’s X-wing.

Cassian notices him first, leaning past Jyn to smile at him. “You look good, Bodhi.”

Bodhi plucks at the front of his Rebel pilot’s jumpsuit. He kind of thinks the orange makes him look like a traffic cone, but he appreciates the sentiment. And he likes the way it feels to wear it. “Thanks.” He glances around the bay; it’s unusually empty, especially considering it’s mid-morning already.

He frowns. No, not just unusually empty - it’s _completely deserted_. “Where is everybody?”

“Luke chased them all out,” Jyn says with a laugh. “It was something, let me tell you.”

“Why?”

“He said he didn’t want people around to stare,” Baze says.

“He knew you would be nervous,” Chirrut puts in from where he’s perched on a nearby crate.

“I hope that’s okay.”

Bodhi starts; he hadn’t heard Luke coming up behind him until the Jedi spoke. He spins to face him, and rocks back a little, weirdly dizzy at the realization that they’re dressed in the very same pilot’s gear. “N-no, it’s fine,” he stammers. “I mean, I appreciate it.”

Luke smiles. One of these days, Bodhi thinks, his heart will get the memo that it’s not happening (no matter how much he wants it to) and stop skipping a beat every time that happens. “Good,” the Jedi says. “Ready?”

“No,” Bodhi admits, but he climbs up into the cockpit anyway. Artoo beeps cheerfully as Bodhi comes into view. “Good morning to you, too,” Bodhi says, maneuvering carefully into the seat. “Try not to let me crash, okay?”

Artoo whistles, which Bodhi chooses to take as agreement. He settles into the seat, playing his fingers carefully over the switches and panels in front of him, making sure he still remembers what everything does. It’s harder than it should be, which is entirely because the cockpit smells faintly of Luke (sun and sand and a faint tang of ozone).

 _You’re a mess,_ Bodhi tells himself.

“Forget something?” Luke says as he appears over the edge of the cockpit. He holds out a Rebel pilot helmet. Bodhi takes it with shaking hands and slides it on over his head.

And then suddenly it hits him that this is _real_. It’s not a dream, or a sim, he’s really actually about to fly this X-wing ( _Luke’s_ X-wing) out through Hoth’s icy atmosphere into low orbit.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks.

Bodhi looks at him, his stomach churning with nerves and excitement in equal measures. “Never better,” he says honestly.

Luke grins. “Glad to hear it. You lead the way out - Artoo can give you wind vectors. Once we clear atmo, we’ll have some fun. Sound good?”

Bodhi nods. He gets distracted for a moment by the atmospheric readings already scrolling obligingly down his screen, and when he looks up again, Luke’s gone. Instead, Jyn hangs off the edge of the cockpit. Bodhi blinks. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to come up and wish you luck,” she says, offhandedly. She leans in, careful not to bump any of the switches, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Bodhi hugs her back.

He lets go after a moment. Jyn pulls back just far enough to look him in the eye. “I just have one piece of advice. Wanna hear it?”

Bodhi hesitates. “Sure?”

She puts her hands on his shoulders. “Okay, here it is. Make. A fucking. Move.”

Heat rushes into Bodhi’s cheeks. “I don’t know—“

“He’s letting you fly his ship, Bodhi,” she says implacably. “And I think the only person who hasn’t seen the way he moons over you is you. Make a move.”

“Ready to go?” Luke’s voice comes over the comms.

Bodhi fumbles for the comm switch, flipping the line to open. “Yeah, yes, sorry, I’m ready.” He makes a face at Jyn. She returns it, pats his shoulder, and jumps down to the ground. Bodhi hits another switch without even needing to look, and the awning comes down to seal around him.

He takes hold of the controls, gripping until his hands have to stop shaking, and says, mostly to himself. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Artoo trills, and a little translator window pops up on Bodhi’s screen. _We got this!_

Bodhi laughs. He’s not sure if the translator works on a literal level or is taking some artistic liberties with tone, but he appreciates it either way.

The trip out through the atmosphere is _rough_. It’s a relatively clear day, by Hoth standards, but the wind is still vicious, catching at Bodhi’s S-foils and threatening to send him into a spin. He rides it out, keeping his hands steady by sheer force of will, and before long the ship stills as they soar out into space.

“Nicely done,” Luke says over the comms as the interference from the atmosphere clears. “I’ve seen a lot of new pilots panic in atmo.”

“Yeah, well,” Bodhi says, even as he grins at the praise, “Try landing on Eadu sometime. Talk about windy.”

“Pass,” Luke says cheerfully. “Okay. Want to try some combat maneuvers?”

“Sure,” Bodhi says. Out here, he’s starting to relax. There’s a lot more margin for error; there’s barely anything to hit, and he’d almost have to cause a full power failure to fall back into the atmosphere before Luke or Artoo could help him.

The X-wing handles like a dream. Bodhi’s used to the clunky, utilitarian steering of Imperial cargo shuttles; by contrast, Luke’s ship responds to the tiniest movements of his hands. Combined with his own muscle memory, it’s almost like it’s responding to his very thoughts, which is both creepy and incredibly cool. He sends it into a spin, cuts the thrusters and lets himself fall until the ship shivers with the first touch of the atmosphere, then rockets back up into vacuum.

“Having fun?” Luke laughs in his ear.

“Absolutely,” Bodhi says. Artoo whistles behind him. He grins and runs his hands over the joysticks. His fingers brush the laser cannon controls, and he sobers. Sure, the X-wing’s maneuverability is fun. But in a firefight? Flying straight at a Star Destroyer through a hail of laser fire?

“Huh,” Luke says absently over the open comm line.

Bodhi drags himself out of his thoughts. “Luke?”

“I’m getting some weird readings near the hyperspace lane,” he says. A little chill creeps up Bodhi’s spine. “Can you double-check these coordinates?”

“Sure. Artoo?”

Artoo trills. A moment later, Bodhi’s instrument panel lights up with readings. “I’m getting some  interference, too.”

“Guess we better check it out,” Luke says. “You game?”

“I guess,” Bodhi says uncertainly. He brings the ship around to follow Luke with fingers gone suddenly numb. He has, as Han often says, _a bad feeling about this_.

They’re only a few seconds into their approach when Bodhi’s display lights up. Artoo lets out a shrill whine. Bodhi scans the readout quickly. “A ship?”

“Cloaked,” Luke says, “That can’t be good.”

The ship finally fizzles into the visual range, and Luke curses. Bodhi’s heart sinks. “That’s an Imperial scout.”

“And it saw us,” Luke finishes. “We can’t let it get to hyperspace.” His voice slips from the Luke Bodhi is growing to know into something more commanding, more serious. “Cover me.”

“Got it,” Bodhi says, trying not to sound as nervous as he feels. He brings the ship around, falling into what he hopes is formation behind and a little “above” Luke.

“They won’t have been able to start the hyperdrive before killing the cloak,” Luke says as they approach. “That gives us at least a minute before they can jump.”

The Imperial ship, perhaps realizing that it couldn’t jump before the X-wings were in range, chooses that moment to turn and open fire.

Bodhi threw the ship into a spin; out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Luke doing the same. “Mirror me,” Luke calls, and swings around to approach “below” the ship’s firing range. Bodhi hauls on the controls, a little harder than he means to; the X-wing bucks once, sharply, but it holds together through the turn.

His heart pounds against the inside of his ribs, sweat dripping down his back. The Imperial ship’s lasers track towards Luke, even as Bodhi’s display lights up with alerts that a targeting system has locked onto him.

Everything seems to slow. Panic eats at Bodhi’s control, but for a moment he can think clearly. Luke’s dot veers away on the display, forced into evasive maneuvers. The ship’s lasers continue to track him. Bodhi’s display registers the launch of a pair of torpedoes, coming his way.

If he runs, he can almost certainly dodge the shots. They’re slow, clearly intended to be fired at a ship that’s unaware of the cloaked scout. But if he runs, the Imperials will make it to hyperspace before either he or Luke can recover.

Bodhi clenches the controls tighter. “Get ready, Artoo. We’re going in.”

The torpedoes lock on. Bodhi lets them, keeping his approach vector focused on the enemy ship, and warms up his own set of lasers. He glances over the controls, but in the stress of the moment, he can’t quite remember — “Artoo, can you set for quad burst?” The droid whistles acknowledgement. Bodhi feels the faint hum of the S-foils unfolding.

Having successfully chased Luke off, the Imperial scout swings around towards Bodhi, bringing the laser cannons back to bear. Bodhi’s just barely within range. The proximity alarm wails. He grits his teeth, watches the targeting computer struggle to get a lock—

It does. Bodhi pulses the lasers several times, then throws himself into a wild roll away from both versions of death coming at him.

He loses control for a long moment, the force of his spin overwhelming the X-wings inertial dampeners enough that he’s thrown hard against one side of the cockpit. The proximity alarm doesn’t let up; the torpedoes swing around to follow him.

And then Luke swoops by, and with a quick one-two of laser shots, the missiles detonate well away from Bodhi. He manages a moment later to get control of his spin and level out, panting.

“You okay?” Luke asks in his ear.

Bodhi takes a moment to check. His heart is pounding, and his shoulder aches where it banged into the edge of the awning, but overwall— “I’m fine. I don’t think they hit me.” Artoo trills confirmation.

“You definitely hit them,” Luke says. Bodhi checks his sensors; sure enough, the Imperial ship has several gaping rents in its plating, including one right about where the hyperdrive would normally be.

“I guess so,” Bodhi says.

“Congratulations, pilot,” Luke says, and Bodhi can _hear_ the grin in his voice. “You just survived your first space battle. How’s it feel?”

Bodhi considers. His head is spinning; as the adrenaline fades, his hands start to shake with the inevitable realization of how close he came to death. He leans back against the cockpit, pushing his sweaty hair back under his helmet and out of the way. “Would you still like me if I threw up in your ship?” He realizes a second too late what he’s said, and heat rushes into his cheeks.

There’s a pause on the comm line, then Luke says, “I’d forgive you. If it were anyone else…”

Oh. That’s not what he expected at all.

“Come on,” Luke continues. “We should get back down there, let Mon and Leia know what happened.”

“What’ll happen to the ship?” Bodhi asks, even as he brings the ship around to . “Won’t the Empire come looking for it?”

“We’ll check its logs for whatever system was before this on its route, then tow it back, leave it there for them to find,” Luke explains.

“That’s clever,” Bodhi says.

“We try.”

—

By the time they reach the base, Bodhi’s way too tired for it to only be lunchtime. Turns out space battles take a lot out of him. The hangar is still fairly empty, and Bodhi raises his eyebrow at Luke as he climbs out of the X-wing. “What did you _do_ to keep people out of here?”

Luke shrugs. “Called in some favors.”

“Some favors,” Bodhi murmurs. The siren call of the cantina is hard to resist, but as soon as his feet touch the ground, he immediately misses the cockpit.

 _You’ll have another chance_ , he tells himself, as convincingly as he can.

“That was some pretty good flying,” Luke says, walking over with his own helmet tucked under his arm.

Bodhi flushes. “Thanks.” It doesn’t compare to the kind of things he heard Luke did at the Death Star, but… the usual rush of justifications and self-doubt doesn’t come. It takes a moment for him to identify the warmth in his chest as pride. He grins, a little shyly. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“For a first timer? You have no idea,” Luke says. He hesitates. “I was worried for a minute, when I saw you spinning like that.”

Bodhi’s brain short circuits a little. “You were?” Then he realizes. “Oh, you mean— about the ship.”

Luke’s face goes flat for a moment. He steps closer, reaches out, and puts his hands on Bodhi’s shoulders, looking very seriously into his eyes. “No. I mean you.”

Bodhi’s face feels like it’s literally on fire. “Oh,” he manages.

Luke’s eyes are really very blue. They’re kind of mesmerizing, which is the only reason Bodhi notices them flicker down to his mouth, then back up.

 _Oh_.

Jyn’s never going to let him live this down. But the taste of Luke Skywalker’s mouth on his is so sweet, Bodhi doesn’t even care.


End file.
